


life gets hard and i'm heading for the highway

by bowlingfornerds



Series: Zombieland [3]
Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Apocalypse, F/M, I Tried, Modern Setting, Zombies, because i sense zero plot and a shitty ending, how did i write a zombie fic without killing people, literally no death other than pre-dead zombies, sozzles, what is this by the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5858638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the outbreak, Bellamy has been focusing on keeping his sister alive. That was his only priority. Then a car pulls up next to them, on the side of the road, and they're given another option:<br/>The City of Light.<br/>In the middle of the zombie apocalypse, they start to search for a new home.</p><p>Another Zombie Apocalypse AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	life gets hard and i'm heading for the highway

**Author's Note:**

> Third zombie AU this week, let's be honest. It's also not as good as I wanted it to be - I started it back in September and found it a few days ago, so I just had a go.  
> Not edited in the slightest. All mistakes I blame on the new light bulb I have in my light in my room, which, on full glow, is barely even lighter than my room is in the darkness.  
> The title comes from Imagine Dragons' 'Working Man', which I found in Kelsey's playlist that she made on my spotify two years ago. Good memories.

It was the flashing of headlights that showed Bellamy there was someone coming. He knew it wouldn’t be a zombie – how the fuck would they manage to drive – but with humans came guns, and with guns came his probable death.

Bellamy Blake prided himself on keeping his dry sense of humour even when faced with the apocalypse. It was a dark, dreary time for all of mankind when bodies came back to life with a hunger for flesh. He had only been fourteen when it started; chasing his sister down the road, laughing, until his mother had stumbled out of the house, her skin in tatters and the heroin needle still firmly stuck in her arm. She had died shortly after the Blake siblings had gone out for the day, before coming back to life and deciding to try murdering her children.

Believe it or not, that was Aurora Blake on one of her more pleasant days.

Bellamy forced his lips back down with some effort – the headlights were getting closer and now was not the time to be making jokes. He shifted the weight of his sister on his back; she was nine to his eighteen, and he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to protect her in the four years the world had been ending. It had a lot to do with hiding her in cupboards and wiping the blood of the first zombie kill on her skin to mask her smell.

The two of them ducked into the bushes, watching the headlights fly past. A lot of him knew that they needed help; he couldn’t do this alone anymore – but he also couldn’t risk his sister’s life for someone who could steal their things and kill them.

When the car disappeared, he pulled himself out of the bushes, moving his sister’s body on his back, and continuing to trudge his way down the side of the motorway. He was hoping to come by a rest stop soon – he was running out of food and only had about two days’ worth left. It was lucky that he met Clarke Griffin when he did then.

The moon was starting to disappear along the horizon, and Bellamy hadn’t slept in almost twenty four hours. He needed somewhere he could sleep that would be safe enough for a couple of hours. Octavia, his sister, couldn’t hold a gun properly – and he didn’t really want her to. She was better with the knife that she kept on her – but her first kill still hadn’t happened yet. Bellamy was holding out hope that it never would.

There was a broken sign that stated the nearest rest stop was another five miles down the road, but Bellamy knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out that long. He fell to his knees with a huff, shifting his sister carefully onto the ground. He made sure they were both well out of the way of the road, barely visible by the cars. His eyes were drifting shut as he set the kitchen timer that he pulled from Octavia’s small backpack. It only went up to an hour – but it would be long enough, he was sure.

He wasn’t awoken by the timer, but by a hand, shaking his shoulder.

“Come on,” a voice urged. Bellamy groaned, blinking his eyes open and cringing in the light. The person who knelt by his side wasn’t Octavia, though, and this made his eyes openly widely, his head turning to find her.

“O?” he asked.

“Your sister’s fine,” the woman told him. Her voice was practically steel, and Bellamy sighed with relief, his body slumping once more. “I saw her standing by the side of the road, and she said that she would only accept my help if you came, too.” Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her; he thought her hair was blonde, but it could be any colour, grimy with blood and dirt, tied up into a short, choppy ponytail. Her eyes were ice, though; blue and solid, staring at him as if daring him to not accept her help.

“Why were you offering?” He asked, pushing himself up and listening to his muscles scream.

“I may have a higher kill count than most in the area, but I’m not going to let a little girl die,” she told him, standing abruptly. Bellamy nodded, barely even caring anymore. His sister was safe – the stranger had said it herself; she had a high kill count. He stumbled his way into the back seat of the car; the front seat already taken with a man with dark skin and the other empty where the woman would be driving. He leant against the door, his sister coming in beside him.

He barely kept his eyes open as the woman climbed in the front, and they turned to face their new passengers.

“Bellamy, Octavia,” the woman said, trying to raise her voice to keep Bellamy awake. “My name’s Clarke, and this is Miller – we’re heading to the City of Light.” That’s all he heard before Bellamy drifted off to sleep.

-

The next time he woke up, the sun was high in the sky and Octavia was chattering on about the last zombie attack they’d been a part of.

“So I was sitting on top of these really high cupboards – wasn’t I, Bell?” His sister turned to him and he hummed in agreement, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “And these zombies were trying to climb up to reach me, and Bell shot each one in the head – it was so cool, right Bell?” He just hummed again, knowing that’s all she wanted for his part of the story. “And in the gap before more came after him, he stuck his hand in the blood of one of the dead people, and climbed up and wiped it on my face – that’s why I still have it in my hair.”

“You wiped blood on her face?” The man asked from the front seat, glancing back at him. Bellamy sat up, reaching around for his seatbelt and putting it on – if only to be a good example for Octavia.

“Yeah – the zomb- they know who to attack by smell,” he explained. “But their blood can mask human scent.” The man – _Miller! That was it!_ – raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“How’d you figure that one out?” He asked.

“Killed one and it fell on top of her,” he shrugged, glancing over to Octavia who wrinkled her nose up in the memory. “The rest of them completely overlooked her after that – it was a safe bet to go by.” Miller nodded, looking back to the road; Clarke hadn’t said a thing since he woke up, just stared directly forward, her hands clenching the wheel.

“So what’s in the City of Light?” Bellamy asked, breaking the silence. They didn’t even have the radio on – sure, the radio only played the same message, over and over, about staying indoors, having a weapon, rationing food, but he found it was better than the silence the last time he drove before the fuel ran out.

“A refugee camp, apparently,” Miller replied.

“Apparently?” He nodded, not looking back.

“No one’s sure – but there are notices in a load of towns, to head West until you hit the City. There are supposed to be weapons and guards, an actual society and everything.” Bellamy raised his eyebrows – he hadn’t heard of this. But, who was he to veto the plans when his aim was just to keep moving, and not let his sister die?

They drove until it got dark, and Clarke pulled over by a small gas station. The headlights were immediately flicked off and the four sat in silence as a bottle smashed from inside the shop.

“How many bullets have you got?” Clarke asked quietly. Bellamy pulled his gun from his waist band, checking them through.

“Seven loaded, about four more magazines in my backpack,” he replied. She nodded.

“Don’t waste bullets. Miller, fill up the tank, Octavia, stay in the car. Bellamy, you’re with me.” He wasn’t a fan of taking this girl’s orders, but he had no choice. She’d saved his and Octavia’s life, and was escorting them to the City of Light without even a hint of a complaint. So he pressed a kiss to Octavia’s forehead, whispering _may we meet again_ and listening to her repeating it back, before leaving the car, shutting the door quietly behind him. He followed Clarke towards the shop, his gun’s safety off, and ready to shoot.

Inside the store, the shelves were on the ground and the products were broken or spilled everywhere. There was only a single body; still stumbling about with his flesh peeling down his face and his eyes red as they locked onto the two strangers. As Bellamy lifted his gun, there was a single shot from Clarke, and the undead was on the ground, a bullet hole straight through his forehead. She nodded at him, before they went about scavenging for food. The whole time, he was just wondering how her shot could be so perfect, and if she even wavered before having to kill actual people. (Only a tiny part of him corrected his thoughts; they weren’t people anymore. It was okay to kill them.)

Bellamy went through down while isle, while Clarke covered another, and sighed.

“There’s nothing here,” he told her. She bent down, picking up an energy bar and shrugging.

“Shame,” she muttered, kicking a shelf as she pocketed the bar. Bellamy glanced back around, before moving towards the rest room. He opened the door slowly, pointing his gun instead, and when the coast was clear, he stepped through. The lights weren’t working, but he looked around anyway – there was a single toilet and sink, with a bar that came down from the wall for the disabled, and a long mirror, stretching vertically across a wall.

He tried the taps and nodded – _figures  -_ when no water came pouring out. When he re-emerged, Clarke was waiting by the door. He shook his head before following her out, finding Miller and Octavia sitting in the car. Miller sat in the driver’s seat, now – having slept during the day – and Octavia was in the back.

“So we just keep moving?” Bellamy questioned. Ahead of him, Clarke nodded, just once.

“We move and we don’t stop – they’re attracted to sound, and the car makes enough of it. They’ll find us if we stick about for too long.” With that, Clarke climbed back into the car and Bellamy waited for only a moment before getting in, too.

And with that, the trip continued.

-

They drove for days. Clarke didn’t trust Bellamy enough to drive the car, just yet, but she trusted Miller, and so the two of them took turns, and they would stop at various places, scavenge for food and then get back on the road again. He had assumed that Miller and Clarke were an item, but when he brought it up while Clarke slept in the back with Octavia, one evening, Miller snorted.

“I’m as straight as a roundabout,” he replied. “And Clarke – we’ll, she’s like one of those two way streets?” Bellamy smiled despite himself, before glancing back at her. Asleep, Clarke looked soft – like all of those hard edges were smooth and an act that she could readily remove. He tore his eyes away from her and to his little sister – who always looked soft, who held her strong bones and hurricane personality beneath her skin.

When Miller asked – and Miller didn’t seem to be much of a talker – Bellamy told him about Aurora Blake. In return, Miller nodded and said his father was a cop, said that he was taken down in the line of duty only to come back and kill his partner. They went silent and the radio just said the same words over and over _stay inside, be safe, do not approach the dead_. Bellamy wasn’t a fan of the radio, regularly, but he had to admit that this was better than the rest of the Top 40 stuff he had to listen to before.

-

It took almost two weeks to reach a camp, or the camp – but it was a camp with no sign and Clarke parked the car a little way outside and watched silently. There was a herd of undead surrounding the place; but there were fortified gates – electricity flowing through them – and shelters built inside. It seemed to be built around a factory – already a fortress but obviously improved since the break out.

A few of the dead were attracted to the sounds the car was making, and banged against the windows. Bellamy wrapped an arm around Octavia as she shuffled further into the middle seat. In the front, neither Clarke nor Miller seemed to notice them.

“We could drive over and blare the horn,” Clarke mused. “But that’s just a bad idea.” Miller titled his head a little, before adjusting his beanie.

“I don’t think there’s a specific way in, Clarke,” he replied. “We could just drive around the place for a while, and when they take notice, they’ll let us in.”

“How do we even know this _is_ the City of Light, anyway?” Bellamy questioned, refusing to be budged by the zombie next to his window, snarling into its own reflection.

“We don’t,” Clarke responded. “But it’s the only safe place we’ve seen for miles.” Octavia scooted forward in her seat, into the centre of the car, and frowned.

“Who’s that, up there?” She asked, pointing to the far right of the camp. There was a guards tower, and in it, a person. Clarke turned and grinned at his little sister.

“I hadn’t seen that,” she said. “There’s a person – they’ll notice us.” Clarke started up the car again, and drove through the herd, running them down when they didn’t move out the way, and creating a bit of a following as they went. It was slowly getting dark and he hoped they would be noticed before that happens – zombies in the light are one thing, but in the dark they were far worse.

As they drove, Bellamy kept his eyes on the man in the tower; barely moving whatsoever. And then there’s a light. A flash and a flash and a flash.

“What is that?” Octavia asked – a light flashed from the guard tower, longer this time.

“Morse code,” Clarke replied slowly. They watched and Bellamy hoped to dear God that one of them could read it. Clarke stopped the car, watching the light, and Bellamy watched her mouth move with the flashes, counting the seconds, the spaces. Then she placed her hands on the wheel once more, and spun it, driving parallel alongside the fence.

“What did it say?” Bellamy asked.

“There’s an entrance around the side,” she said. “We’re to use that one.” Only, the zombies followed the car and they banged on the windows, Octavia squeaking every few seconds and squeezing her eyes shut. Bellamy wrapped her up in his arms as they went, and Clarke eventually stopped the car. “There.” She nodded towards a gate, where people stood, guns at the ready.

“How are we supposed to get there?” Miller asked.

“Could we pull up closer?” Bellamy suggested.

“It’s an electric fence and we’re in a field of zombies,” Clarke sighed. “It’s not a good idea.” They sat there for a moment before Octavia looked up at Bellamy.

“We can make it through, right?” She asked. Bellamy nodded.

“Of course – we’ll do what we did last time, and the time before-“

“And the time before,” Octavia continued, nodding. Miller and Clarke turned towards him.

“What did you do last time?” Bellamy looked around, sighing at the throng of undead they were surrounded by.

“We’re going to smell like the zombies,” he replied. Clarke quirked an eyebrow. “Can you flash the lights and tell them that we’ll be there in a few minutes?” Bellamy felt her eyes burn into his skin as she studied him, before turning around and doing as he said.

“What now?” She asked.

“Drive the car to the edge of the woods, over there,” he continued. The factory was mostly in open land – a long road leading up to it that they’d driven up, and then a field and forest surrounding. It was mostly abandoned, and Clarke drove the car slowly up to the woods, the trail of zombies on her tail.

“How are we supposed to do this?” Miller asked as Clarke stopped the car, and Bellamy smirked a little.

“It’s going to be really gross,” he promised. “Cover me.” At Miller and Clarke’s unamused looks, coupled with nods, Bellamy pressed a kiss into Octavia’s hair. “May we meet again,” he whispered, and she repeated it back just as quietly. Then, Bellamy jumped out of the car, pulling his gun from his waistband as he did so. He shot the first one in the head, and as it hit the floor, started pulling on its clothes.

Bellamy had learned from one or two awful moments that zombies were easy to accidentally pull apart, so he tugged on its jacket, pulling it around to the other side of the car as gun shots started to ring out; Clarke and Miller shooting at the zombies and taking them down, one by one. Clarke’s accuracy was startling, but Bellamy only focused on Octavia jumping out of the car, knife in hand.

Immediately, she stabbed open the zombie’s stomach, and Bellamy dipped his hands into its blood, before wiping it across her clothes. Octavia grimaced, as always, but let him cover her front and then back in red. Finally, he swiped his hand across her face, before she stuck her hands into the undead’s body and did the same for him.

“Clarke,” he said, and Clarke moved from where she had been crouched behind the front of the car, shooting, to kneeling down with him. “Octavia, cover her, then call Miller over for the same.” His sister nodded and Bellamy stood where Clarke had been previously, shooting at the dead to cover them. Thirty seconds later, he saw Miller climbing through the car – he’d been shooting out the passenger side window – and Clarke joined him, smelling like death.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” She asked. Bellamy nodded.

“It’s always worked before. We’ll stop shooting, and spread out,” he told her, loud enough for Miller to hear. “You walk slowly, you bump into them if they’re in your way, you don’t panic. Make it to the gate and we’ll be okay.” They nodded and a few seconds later, the other three jogged into the woods. Bellamy leaned into the car, where the ignition was still turned on, and switched on the radio, twisting the volume dial to maximum.

 _Stay inside, be safe, do not approach the dead, stay inside, be safe, do not approach the dead_.

Bellamy ran into the woods like the others, before moving out slowly into the field. He saw Miller, a little further ahead, shuffling along with wide eyes. Even Clarke looked afraid, further back. Octavia, however – he saw through a group of zombies – was walking slowly and confidently, used to doing this.

_Stay inside, be safe, do not approach the dead._

Undead after undead bumped into his shoulders and Bellamy swallowed, forcing himself onwards. A couple stopped and turned to him before moving on, and others ignored him entirely. In the distance, he saw Octavia reach the gate; saw her speaking with the people, saw it open and her slip inside. A wave of relief rushed over him – Octavia’s safety was his priority.

He glanced around for Miller, now behind him, and nodded him forwards. Miller caught his eye and seemed to talk himself into continuing on, before he did.

Bellamy turned slowly, to find Clarke – and he caught sight of her ice blonde hair through the crowd. He moved cautiously towards her. They were supposed to stay apart, because the zombies could smell their human scent better if they were in a group (which, unfortunately, he’d found out a year or so beforehand with Roma and Fox  - their screams still echoed around his mind) but he couldn’t help but move over, looking at the sheer terror on her face.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly when he reached her, and Clarke’s eyes darted over to him. She nodded and Bellamy moved forwards towards the gate as Clarke shuffled along.

“I’m fine,” she hissed. “I’ve just never walked through a field of zombies before – there’s so many of them.”

_Stay inside, be safe, do not approach the dead._

Bellamy nodded with a shrug.

“Have you never been in a crowd before?” He asked. Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Of course I have – just not surrounded by things that want to kill me.” Bellamy snorted – a zombie turned their way before becoming disinterested.

“Sounds like you’ve never been to public school,” he replied sarcastically. Clarke gritted her teeth and Bellamy took pity on her. He reached out and took her hand. Immediately he felt her tense, but Bellamy didn’t let go – he was going to pull her through this field if that’s what it took. Her hand slowly relaxed and Bellamy nodded supportively.

“I thought you were the badass zombie killer?” He whispered, picking up their pace just a little, and tugging her along. Clarke looked away.

“It’s easy to kill them,” she replied. “They’re not humans, they’ve already died-“

“But you’re afraid of them, really?” He bumped into an undead but they both kept going anyway.

“Of course I am,” she sighed. “Who isn’t?” Bellamy didn’t reply, just kept moving, kept his eyes looking away from her. He was scared, really – and she knew it, but he was going to be the strong one; to push down his fears and keep them both moving.

Eventually, they made it to the gate.

“Bell!” O cried happily. He smiled at her and the gate opened enough for him and Clarke to slip through. They were then surrounded by people with guns – but they weren’t adults, they were kids. Teenagers with guns and bullet proof vests, and Bellamy raised his eyebrows.

“Come on,” one said gruffly. He was shorter than Bellamy, pale, with cuts crosshatching his face and a scowl. “I’ll take you to Wells – he’s in charge here.”

“Wells?” Clarke asked, stepping forward more quickly now. Bellamy felt a tug on his arm and looked down to find their hands still joined. He smiled, embarrassed, at her as they let go – and turned away too quickly to see her do the same. “Wells Jaha?” Clarke continued, stumbling only a little. “He made it here?”

“ _Made it here?_ ” The guy repeated. “He bloody well took over this place.” A girl with orange hair in braids laughed.

“Stop acting so bitter about it,” she told him as they walked. “Wells made this place an actual community – we’re safe here.”

“I can’t believe Wells took over the City of Light,” Clarke gushed. The two guards glanced back over.

“City of Light?” The man questioned. “Hell no – this is the Drop Ship.” Miller frowned.

“This isn’t the City of Light? That’s where we were headed – how far off are we?” The girl sighed, shaking her head.

“The City of Light doesn’t exist anymore,” she explained. “It did, at first – right, Murphy?” The man – Murphy – nodded.

“I was there right at the beginning,” he agreed. “That place was hell on Earth – I considered just _becoming_ one of those lurkers, just to get away from that place.”

“Really?” Bellamy could hear the disappointment in Clarke’s voice. Murphy nodded.

“Yeah, the place was awful. If you didn’t have a use you’d be put to it as dogs.”

“Dogs?” Octavia asked as she slipped her hand into Bellamy’s. Murphy shifted his gun in his hands, scowling. Monroe led them through into the building, and Bellamy caught sight of a few teenagers running about.

“You’re chained to a post and killed,” Murphy replied bitterly. “Then, when you come back as a lurker, you’re a guard dog.” Bellamy swallowed and watched as Octavia looked at the ground, frowning. They were all silent for a moment, and all that could be heard was their feet slapping on the concrete of the passage.

“How did the City die?” Miller asked at last.

“Overrun by lurkers,” Murphy replied. “The whole place was just taken – it was one zombie breaking through the fence at night, taking out someone on watch, then another and another. If they didn’t have mush for brains, I’d call them tactical geniuses.”

“How did you get out?” Bellamy questioned.

“A few of us decided that we couldn’t take it there anymore. I wasn’t really friends with them, but hell, it was the only way out. Monty turned off the electricity to the gates that night, and we all slipped out…” Murphy trailed off and Octavia looked up at him.

“So the undead made it through because you guys wanted to get out?” Murphy looked away, his face dark and his head down.

“Monroe, I’m going to go tell the others that we’ve got some new guys,” he said. “Any of you good with guns?” The older three nodded. “Good, I’ll call Raven down from the wall.” Murphy stalked off and Bellamy gripped his sister’s hand a little tighter.

-

It was strange, the Drop Ship. Bellamy had never had his heart set on being in a specific place since the outbreak occurred. To him, his life revolved around keeping Octavia alive for the next meal, for the next morning, until the zombies slowly died out. It was odd having a place he felt safe in; odd being able to sleep in a real bed, and eat real food.

Wells Jaha led the Drop Ship well, and Clarke smiled more than Bellamy had seen in the weeks previous.

She smiled more around him, too. It was as if having her childhood best friend around meant that her personality shifted – or maybe it was Bellamy helping her through the field of undead, maybe it was him helping _her_ instead of her taking the lead. Maybe it was that, for some reason, he refused to let her die – he couldn’t stand the idea of her being ripped to shreds by zombies, or dying with a bullet through her brain.

He thought he would have those feelings for everyone – but he remembered the way he let people die in the past, to keep Octavia alive; all of the camps they stole and ran from, the way he was okay to kill people who’d been bitten, without batting an eye.

He realised about a week after arriving at the Drop Ship that he had a crush on Clarke, and he told her about it a month after that.

They were up in the guard tower, and Bellamy leant on the wall. It was a slow night – the herd of undead that was outside the gates when they arrived had moved on; Wells and Clarke had organised for a group of rovers to go out and lead them away, before sneaking back to camp. There wasn’t a dead man in sight, and below them a fire crackled in a pit and Octavia clung onto Miller’s back as he swung her around, laughing.

He didn’t really need to gather up the courage to tell Clarke that he loved the blue of her eyes, or the way her hair looked in the wind – because she’d just glanced over and shrugged before speaking.

“We’ve known each other for a few months now,” she started, leaning against the wall next to him. “And I know the apocalypse is going on around us – but if you don’t ask me out soon, I’m going to take personal offence.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened and he stammered something before she laughed.

“Just a thought,” she added. He sucked in a breath before straightening.

“I’d take you on a date, but the best I can offer you is getting you a drink from Monty’s moonshine still,” he said. Clarke smiled up at him.

“Sounds like a date to me,” she replied. He nodded.

“Yeah – yeah it does.” She had kissed him, and he kissed back, and they were lucky that no one attacked that night – that bandits didn’t come, or zombies, or just assholes with guns – because they were too enraptured by each other to have noticed.

For the first time in a long time, Bellamy found himself caring for someone other than his sister, and if he felt safer in the blonde’s arms than he did when he was just in the Drop Ship, normally, well that was just for him to know.

**Author's Note:**

> How obvious is it that I gave up when it came to the ending?  
> There was going to be more plot, but I was super bored of plot. I stopped caring probably. I just wanted Clarke and Bellamy to kiss. Tbh, I just want to see it on the show already, so I can't even blame myself for finishing it early so I could just get to the kissing.
> 
> Comments and kudos are super appreciated.  
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
